


A Case of Sheer Cupidity

by gingertart50



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-01
Updated: 2014-05-01
Packaged: 2018-01-21 12:32:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1550567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gingertart50/pseuds/gingertart50
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snape resists the best efforts of Minerva, the Hogwarts staff and Lucius Malfoy to pair him off, doesn't quite evade a Ding-Bat, ensures that he is never asked to make a romantic gesture again - for Merlin's sake, who wouldn't want a card with a Cupid on it? - feels his heart break, smashes a vial of precious memories and then creates a potion with no great expectations of kissing the man who has already ended up dead once. But charm and natural confidence might be over-rated anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Case of Sheer Cupidity

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Severus_sighs Anti-Valentine's Day fest 2012 using All The Prompts.

Severus Snape, Headmaster of Hogwarts, sipped his tea and watched the other staff members between the hanging strands of his hair. It was too close to That Date and nothing unpleasant had happened yet, so he knew the buggers were biding their time. It stood to reason; they never let him get away unscathed now that they knew which side he had really been on.   
  
It had been bad enough when they were under the delusion that all he needed was a good shag to sort him out. Now they were convinced that he was still pining for Lily Potter and wasn't THAT a joke? Of course Dumbledore had swallowed the sad tale of unrequited teenage love; the old pouf had been an incurable romantic, swanning around in his purple, sparkly robes and grieving for his long-lost bad boy. Did Minerva and the rest really know so little about Snape that they believed it, too?   
  
He stretched out his legs under the table and cocked an eyebrow at his deputy as she took the seat next to his.  
  
"Severus," she said and patted the hand that gripped the edge of the table, "stop looking like a deer caught in wandlight and listen to my excellent idea for a Valentine's Day treat."  
  
There were so many things wrong with that sentence that he was unsure where to start, and she took advantage of his silence. "I know you think we're all trying to set you up with someone —"  
  
"You are," he growled, "and I won't have it. Nothing says 'Happy Valentine's Day' better than Minerva 'pussy-cat' McGonagall trying to set me up with every unattached member of the staff, including non-humans and ghosts, in a crisis of guilty conscience and self-recrimination."  
She tutted in that inimitable way that she had. "Don't be silly, you and Cuthbert would be a horrendous combination. You don't even try —"  
  
"Minerva," he said, attempting not to grit his teeth, "has it occurred to you that everyone I've kissed has ended up _dead_?"  
  
He took a savage satisfaction in seeing her taken aback.  
  
"Surely not?"  
  
He held up a hand and counted on his fingers.  
  
"Lily Potter, my childhood friend. Then there was my teenage, experimental crush, Regulus Black, who disappeared without a trace and who, according to Potter, ended up in the bottom of an Inferius-infested lake. Then after a long hiatus, Filius trapped me under his blasted, enchanted mistletoe with a witty, intelligent and not unattractive Muggle studies professor named Charity Burbage. She begged me to help her but I was forced to watch as a giant snake devoured her on the dining table at the Malfoy's. Not a parting that I care to remember at two in the morning."  
  
"That's why you deserve someone worthy of you," Minerva said strongly. Bloody Gryffindors, you point out the pitfalls in their plans and it only makes them even more determined.  
  
"Worthy?" he demanded, incensed. "Minerva, I am nothing to look at, I have no charm or natural confidence to smooth my rough edges, so why is this happening? Why bother?"  
  
"Because there's someone here who's very interested in you," she said quietly. "Someone else who deserves happiness, too." She glanced along the table to where _he_ sat, chatting to the current Muggle studies numpty, displaying the patience and social skills that Snape had always secretly envied. His heart gave a treacherous little leap despite his conviction that he was being set up. Minerva patted his hand. "He said he would come up and see you in your office later, Severus. Will you give him a chance?"  
  
He shrugged and she nodded and moved away with a suspicious glitter in her eyes.  
  


* * *

  
  
The knock came at a quarter to eleven. He had tried to settle to his paperwork but for some reason had been unable to concentrate. Totally unlikely scenarios played out in his head: romantic walks by the lake, dinner in the Headmaster's tower, weekend trips to Paris...  
He cleared his throat and called, "Enter," in what he hoped would sound like his normal tone. The door creaked open and a hand curled around the edge.   
  
"Severus?" enquired a low, masculine voice.  
  
"Come in," he said encouragingly. He felt almost dizzy with anticipation and yes, he had to admit it, lust. There was a pause, and then – beaming, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed – in walked the Muggle studies professor.   
  
Severus took a deep breath and closed his eyes, his heart breaking.  
  
"What can I do for you, Professor Dingle-Batchett?"  
  
"You can call me 'Ethelred', Severus. I knew you were interested, I knew it by the way you're always watching me! Oh, it takes one to know one, doesn't it?" He tapped the side of his head. "The old gaydar never fails!"  
  
"I'm always watching because —"  
  
"Because you're shy and you were biding your time! I know, I know, I understand completely, darling! Oh, this is marvellous! I thought the other Professors were having me on! I can't wait to tell them!" He strode to Snape's desk, leaned over and planted a wet, smacking kiss directly on the Headmaster's nose. "Now, where shall we go for our first date? I simply _must_ show you off! What about that new place in Knockturn Alley, next to —"  
  
"No!" It came out at a higher volume than Snape had anticipated but Dingle-Batchett was unfazed.  
  
"Ah, shy, yes, of course! Never fear, darling boy, I'll introduce you to my circle and then you'll feel right at home anywhere!"  
  
"I don't think —"  
  
"Must dash, classes to teach, you know how it is!" On the way out, Dingle-Batchett popped his head back in again to declare, "Something romantic for tomorrow! I insist upon reciprocal romantic gestures!" before clattering off down the stairs.   
  
"Romantic gesture, my arse!" Snape growled.  
  


* * *

  
  
Very well, if that complete dunderhead wanted a romantic gesture, he'd bloody well get one! Snape stormed through the castle, hexing heart-shaped balloons and glittery pink tinsel on all sides. Students fled in every direction. Staff members stepped out of his path. He eventually ran his quarry to earth in Neville Longbottom's potting shed.  
  
Rubeus Hagrid lifted a Niffler out of a tub of peat compost and took the glittery, golden coin from between its front teeth.   
  
"'Ello, 'Eadmaster, were yeh lookin' fer me?"  
  
"Yes," Snape said, slightly out of breath. "I need to catch something small, winged and elusive."  
  
"Yeah, we can do tha’, I got lots of 'umane traps and stuff. Wha’ did yeh wanna catch?"  
So Snape explained and then billowed out again, leaving Hagrid scratching his beard and looking pensive, or as pensive as he ever got, anyway.  
  


* * *

  
  
"I saw him!" the first-year Hufflepuff exclaimed to her friends. "He was fluttering into the dungeon! Oh dear, we ought to do something!"  
  
"What did he look like, Peony?"  
  
"Pink and chubby and wearing a little, gold loin-cloth. And he was carrying a cute little bow and teeny little arrows."  
  
"And then what?"  
  
"This great big net whooshed down, trapping him against the floor, and a hand reached out and grabbed him by the neck. Then the door slammed shut."  
  
"Was it...?"  
  
"I think so. It was Cupid, and the Headmaster's got him trapped in the Potions prep room!"  
  
A passing sixth-year Prefect knew all about Cupids, but he was a Slytherin, so he did not see the benefit in stopping to explain. He simply rolled his eyes and continued on his way.

* * *

  
  
Snape considered his Valentine's gift a work of art; a pity that he was alone in this. The card was painted a tasteful black, decorated with Rococo patterns of deep red and purple. The text was red, the colour of blood, stating simply: 'A Valentine's Day Gift'. The Cupid was displayed to great advantage, carefully charmed into a life-like pose, bow in hand. Oddly enough, the card was met with a horrified silence, followed by exclamations of disgust and shock, particularly from the younger students and the Muggle studies professor. It wasn't as if the card was even very gory; Snape had carefully siphoned off all the blood for future use and ensured that the fatal wound was hidden at the back of the body.  
  
"I don't think Dingle-Batchett understands the significance of a dead Cupid, old chap," Slughorn said consolingly. "Do you need all the body parts?"  
  
Snape shook his head. "You may have half."  
  
"Splendid! My fifth-formers can use them next term."  
  
He could hear Professor Potter explaining about Cupids to the Ding-Bat.  
  
"Cupids are evil, little buggers related to doxies. They're fat, pink, and appear like cute babies to human eyes but that's just protective camouflage. They're aggressive, venomous and live in bushes, where they tend to lay in wait for courting couples and shoot them with poisoned arrows. The poison's designed for their natural prey: butterflies, dragonflies and small song-birds, so it doesn't kill humans, although a side-effect of the venom sends humans mad with lust for a few hours. We cover them with the other biting fairies in year three of Defence Against the Dark Arts."   
  
"The Cupid is a very useful ingredient in many potions associated with emotions and the heart, including distress associated with grief and loss – the results of a broken heart, in fact," Horace explained, adding his two-Knuts' worth.  
  
Snape saw Potter's green eyes flicker at the words 'broken heart'. Everyone knew the Weasley girl had broken his heart when she’d run off with that Quidditch player not long after the end of the war.   
  
He realised that he was staring when Ding-Bat gave him a somewhat affronted glare. Snape felt himself go pink, and watched as Potter shoved back his chair and strode away. God that man had an arse to die for. He was obviously off to help coach the Gryffindor Quidditch team in his free period again; made-to-measure Quidditch leathers like those ought to be illegal. Perhaps he should ban them under a new school rule.   
  
Snape sighed and Summoned the discarded Cupid and its card before Slughorn appropriated the lot.

* * *

  
  
Snape was moping in the company of a rapidly diminishing bottle of Firewhisky when he heard the tap-tap-tap of a cane on the flagstones outside his office. Then there was a pause and the cane thumped in the familiar one-three-two signal from his old spying days. He waved his wand to unward the door.  
  
"And nothing says 'Happy Valentine's Day' like a bloody Malfoy smirking on your doorstep."  
  
"I thought I'd just call in for an hour before I take Cissa out for dinner," Lucius Malfoy said cheerfully. "Knowing how you love to rise to the occasion with romantic aplomb."  
  
"Piss off." Snape picked up a vial of memories from his desk and twirled it between his fingers. He caught glimpses of unruly black hair, green eyes and a Quidditch uniform outlining a shapely arse. In a fit of self-pity, he hurled the glittering flask into the fireplace.  
  
"Dear, dear," his guest sighed, "who was it? Surely not the Potter woman still?"  
  
"I told you to piss off, Lucius."  
  
Malfoy drew his wand and Summoned the cloud of slowly dissipating memories. Snape lunged but failed to connect with the wand, since Malfoy was perfectly sober and Snape was well on the way to oblivion.  
  
"'S mine! My memories, leave them alone!"  
  
"Severus? Is this who I think it is?"  
  
Snape fumbled for his own wand and inelegantly Banished the gauzy mist.  
  
"There. Done. Cut out of my heart."  
  
"It doesn't work like that, old friend, as you're very well aware. You'll need an Obliviate. Do you wish me to do the honours?"  
  
"No," Snape said, folding his arms and resting his head on them. "No. Leave me to my alcohol-sodden misery and go celebrate with Narcissa. I'll survive. Again."  
  
"Does he know?" Malfoy enquired in a curiously gentle voice. Snape shrugged.   
  
"He's still broken-hearted over the Weasley chit. I was going to make him a potion to help him get over it but it isn't worth the bother. He wouldn't want someone like me, anyway. Old, used-up, ugly... no-one wants – _hic_ – an ugly old Death Eater."  
  
"Hm." Malfoy slipped his wand back into his cane. "How much have you had to drink?"  
  
"Not enough. Yet. _Hic_."  
  
"Well, knowing your capacity, you must have had at least another bottle of that gut-rotting swill. Why don't you make him the potion, Severus? What do you need to brew it?"  
  
"Cupid heart. Caught a Cupid today." He waved vaguely and the card came wobbling across the room, the dead Cupid dangling obscenely. Malfoy gave a small shudder as the Cupid landed on the desk with a sodden thump. Snape stared at it morosely. "Looks like I feel."  
  
"You're not dead, old chap, just a bit squiffy."  
  
"Am not squiffy. Am as pissed as a fart." He prodded the corpse with a finger and the Cupid stared blankly at the ceiling. A single, fat bluebottle crawled out of its open mouth and buzzed away. Snape stood up with great dignity, clutched his belly, leaned over and was copiously sick all over what had been Dumbledore's favourite Axminster carpet.  
  


* * *

  
  
"Professor Potter? I have something for you."  
  
Harry paused and turned. Snape could see how he schooled his expression into polite attention.   
"Is the new curriculum ready, Headmaster?"  
  
"No." Snape took a deep breath. "I have brewed a potion which I believe may be beneficial to you."  
  
"To me?" Harry gazed at the little vial in Snape's hand. "What's it for, sir?"  
  
"It is particularly of benefit to those suffering the effects of loss and grief from a broken heart."  
  
Potter blushed curiously pink as he hesitantly reached out to take the potion. "And you brewed this for me?"  
  
"After your experiences with Miss Weasley..."  
  
Potter snorted inelegantly. "It wasn't exactly Ginny I was pining for, but thank you."  
  
"I apologise if I was mistaken."  
  
Green eyes gazed seriously into his. When had Potter grown to almost equal Snape in height? When had he acquired this air of competent self-reliance?  
  
"I don't think you've any idea, have you?" Potter gave a wistful, little smile that almost broke Snape's heart anew.   
  
"If there's anything I can do..." This was like negotiating a mine-field. What did one say?  
  
Potter cocked his head. "Headmaster?"  
  
"If you need a friend to talk to, please consider that my office door is always open."  
  
Potter took a deep breath and Snape could literally watch as he gathered up his Gryffindor bravado to speak with heartfelt conviction.  
  
"And if I wanted more than friendship?"  
  
The silence spun out until Snape realised that he was supposed to speak, that Potter was turning away, that he was about to cock it all up again. He reached out, grasped Potter's arm, dragged him back and pressed their mouths together. Potter gave a startled squawk and then made a humming sound that struck down through Snape's body like an electric shock, all the way to his cock. He fisted Potter's sweater as he crushed the smaller man to him, oblivious to the rest of the world.  
  


* * *

  
  
"That's ten galleons you owe me, Filius," Minerva murmured, holding out her hand. Flitwick grinned and flicked the money into her palm.   
  
"Well done, Ethelred," he squeaked.  
  
Dingle-Batchett blushed and shrugged. "Glad to be of help. God, I wish Potter the best of luck; Snape has all the social skills of a Jarvey with a toothache. The man's impossible."  
  
"Not quite, darling," Trelawney said, taking his arm. "He does have a very inauspicious aura, it's true, but his heart's in the right place."  
  
Dingle-Batchett patted her hand and gave a smile that was almost as misty as hers. "Not pinned out on a dissecting board in the dungeon, I hope."  
  
"Severus told me that everyone he's ever kissed ended up dead," Minerva said with a very satisfied and cat-like smile. "He should feel safe enough kissing Harry; the lad has already died and returned, from what he tells us."  
  
"Well, tha's all right, then," Hagrid said in a whisper that would have carried right out to where Snape and Potter were still wrapped around each other, had Filius not had the sense to put up a silencing charm. "Glad young 'Arry's sorted at las’. Anyone fancy a cuppa?"  
  
"Jolly good idea," Slughorn agreed. "A few of those left-over Valentine's day chocolates would go down a treat, too."  
  
They wandered back to the staff-room, leaving the Headmaster and his Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor in no need of Cupids at all.

* * *


End file.
